The carriage moved forward slowly, making a rumbling sound.
In the literary world, there are not many people that Fang Yun cares about, except Zhang Jingan and only a few others.
Since returning to the literary world, Fang Yun discovered that the Holy Temple had stored a huge amount of letters for him. As long as he accepted them, tens of thousands of letters would fly to him.
Fang Yun temporarily gave up accepting it and sat in the carriage.
Soon, the carriage arrived at a vegetable market in the south of the city and moved slowly through the market.
It was already night and the market was a little dim.
The driver didn't know what was going on and just drove the carriage according to Fang Yun's instructions.
After the car drove for a while, Fang Yun suddenly lifted the curtain slightly and looked out through the gap.
It was freezing cold and there were fewer people in the vegetable market than usual, but the vegetable vendors were doing business as usual.
I saw a dim lantern hanging in a simple wooden shed. Under the lantern were many incubators covered with quilts, revealing a few green leaves. A couple in their fifties and sixties, wearing thick cotton-padded jackets, were standing in the wooden shed, stamping their feet gently and occasionally shouting out their wares.
"Fresh cabbage, only 18 cents per head..." Lao Guo shouted loudly, glanced at the carriage, and saw the curtain of the carriage fall down.
Old Guo suddenly stopped talking and looked at the carriage going away in confusion.
"Old man, what are you looking at?"
"Nothing, I just thought there was someone I knew sitting in the carriage."
"Those who can ride in a carriage are rich people. What rich people can you know?"
Old Guo chuckled and slowly straightened his back.
Fang Yun listened to the old couple's words and smiled. Last year, when he took Zhang Jing'an to dig out manure, he was with this old Guo. This man was kind and honest and helped a lot. When Fang Yun took Zhang Jing'an away, he left Lao Guo 1,000 taels of silver, plus a piece of paper with "Zhang Longxiang, Marquis of Zhujiang" written by him.
Seeing that Lao Guo was not implicated by him, Fang Yun felt relieved, but then his face turned gloomy.
When in Zhujiang City, Fang Yun once visited a rural couple. Because the King of Chu was purging the Zhujiang Army, his visit to that family was reported, resulting in the couple being exiled, and the peasant woman died on the way to exile.
Fang Yun's eyes darkened, but soon returned to normal.
The carriage continued to move forward, and soon stopped in front of a restaurant on Changhe Street.
Changhe Street is not the most prosperous street. High-ranking officials in the capital will never come here, but some wealthy people often come here, and it is also a gathering place for ordinary scholars.
Fang Yun looked up and saw the four big words "Ji Family Restaurant" written on the side of the black door. It was no different from other restaurants on this street, with three stories high, but Fang Yun chose this one.
Fang Yun asked the driver to stay downstairs, stepped into the Ji Family Restaurant, took a quick look, and went up the stairs to the second floor.
Perhaps because it was a winter night, the first and second floors were not very lively. A waiter came over to ask Fang Yun. Fang Yun casually threw him a tael of silver and asked him to leave, then walked to the third floor.
The third floor was different from the ones below and was very lively. When Fang Yun heard the voices of the crowd, he knew it might be a small literary gathering. However, he was a scholar and he was just going to the third floor to take a look. The road at the staircase was not blocked, so there was nothing wrong with going up and he continued to walk up.
The stairs were against the wall. Fang Yun was walking to the middle of the stairs when a waiter on the upper floor looked down with a smile and said, "Sir, are you attending the literary gathering?"
Fang Yun looked up at the waiter on the third floor, stopped on the stairs, and said, "If the third floor is forbidden to scholars, I can go to other restaurants."
Fang Yun noticed that the waiter's attitude had changed significantly. His face became cold and alert.
"As a rule, people who are not members of the literary gathering are not allowed to go up to the third floor." The waiter said in a very impolite tone.
The waiter took another look at Fang Yun. At this moment, Fang Yun looked like Zhang Longxiang. Although he was a burly man with a beard, he had an extraordinary temperament. The waiter hesitated.
At this time, three scholars walked to the stairs. They were all wearing student clothes and looked to be in their twenties or almost thirty years old.
After asking about the whole story, one of the fair-faced students smiled and said, "My dear brother, although we are holding a literary gathering on the third floor and have not invited outsiders, we do not exclude scholars from the world. However, since you are not wearing the official uniform, we dare not welcome you rashly. I think... since you want to go to the third floor, you can write a poem. As long as you get our approval, you can join us. How about that?"
The literary world is different from the Shengyuan Continent. If a figure like Zhang Longxiang appears in the Shengyuan Continent, 90% of the scholars will recognize him. However, the communication in the literary world is not smooth enough, and these people are all students who don’t even have official seals. They cannot enter the discussion board and it is difficult to see Zhang Longxiang’s portrait.
At this moment, more than a dozen scholars walked to the railing of the stairs on the third floor and looked down. Except for four or five scholars, most of them were students, and none of them recognized Fang Yun.
After those people asked about what happened just now, they all laughed. A scholar with a kind face explained: "My dear, we are not trying to make things difficult for you. This is the custom in Jingzhou."
Fang Yun smiled and said, "It's okay, it's just a poem."
Fang Yun said as he walked up. After taking three steps, he continued walking and said, "Climb to the highest building."
Everyone was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter, interrupting Fang Yun's words. Several young students laughed so hard that they were out of breath, and even the waiter was laughing.
"My dear, you are in your thirties or forties, and you dare to call yourself a scholar after writing such a poem? I am ashamed for you!"
"If this can be called poetry, then all my poems can protect the country!"
"And he climbed up to the tallest building without fear of falling!"
Fang Yun smiled and continued to walk up the stairs. He soon came to the staircase, glanced at the third floor, and said, "Twelve Rails Rushing Bull Fight."
All the laughter stopped abruptly.
Niu Dou refers to the positions of the stars Niu and Dou. The first sentence is just an ordinary sentence, but the second sentence immediately says that the railing on the third floor is extremely high, reaching into the sky, and can even point directly to the starry sky.
Although it is not a brilliant sentence, the two sentences together are better than ordinary poems. All the scholars understood that Fang Yun deliberately wrote the first sentence, firstly to form a sharp contrast with the second sentence, and secondly to set a trap to lure them into the trap.
The waiter's smiling face froze. Even the scholar didn't dare to smile, let alone him.
Fang Yun went up to the third floor, and the people at the stairs hurriedly separated.
Fang Yun continued as he took a step forward: "Zhang does not want to leave his name, I am afraid that he will suppress the fourteen states in the literary world!"
If an ordinary person composed such overbearing poetry, it would inevitably lead to criticism or even ridicule from everyone, but Fang Yun said it himself, with the aftermath of the victory in the battle with Bi Can, his momentum was so great that he was the only one in the world and all the kings bowed to him, which made everyone present terrified.
The students and scholars did not even dare to breathe, with cold sweat dripping down their backs. They only felt that the man in front of them was extremely majestic, as if he could smash the fourteen states of the literary world with just a stretch of his hand.
.(To be continued.)